


Putting the D in Teamwork

by SummerAtLast



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Alien Biology, BDSM, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-09 15:17:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3254549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummerAtLast/pseuds/SummerAtLast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Trott.” Ross fixed Trott with his saddest puppy eyes. “Don’t leave me hanging, mate.”<br/>“Trott,” whined Smith. “Don’t leave me out.”<br/>“Really now, gents,” said Trott. “Teamwork. I can do you both at once.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Putting the D in Teamwork

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank my betas - Three, Mel, Julia, and the endlessly-patient friendchat who looked over this a million times.  
> Thank you so much for the help with the ending, Three.

“Trott?” Smith poked his head through the elevator doors. “Trottimus? Where’d you put the clay?”

No reply. Smith crossed the gleaming expanse of the reception floor. Trott wasn’t tinkering with the force field. He wasn’t behind the cactuses. Smith kicked the smudgy green glass of the sorting system. What was the point of a chest if it didn’t contain the things you wanted?

He whined under his breath. “Trott, where are you?”

Not even a whiff of walrus.

“Trotty? Trott Trott Trottimus? Where’d you go?” He hadn’t been in the missile silo. He’d better not be down in the caves. Smith was certain they didn’t need anything from the mines as badly as he needed clay right now.

Smith pouted. Trott was probably wanking in the caves again.

Sure enough, the torches were lit, and there was a faint echo down one of the tunnels. Smith followed the wet smacking sound to its source. He grinned. It was always a delight to catch Trott at it.

“Trott, I need clay,” said Smith loudly, his hands in his pockets.

“In a minute, Smith.” Trott’s voice was smooth and level.

Smith sidestepped a minecart and looked into a mined-out alcove. 

Ross was naked, his hands behind his back. Trott was up to his usual games, then. Smith wondered if Ross was wearing handcuffs, then decided he probably wasn’t. Ross liked being a good boy.

Trott’s hand moved steadily on Ross’ cock, slick with whatever the other two used when Smith wasn’t around. He’d probably been at it a while; it took quite a lot to get Ross off. The knot at the base of Ross’ cock was already swollen, and his lips were red from kissing or biting. Smith palmed himself through his trousers, leaning against the wall.

Ross watched Trott’s face attentively. Was Trott saying something to him? Smith heard the low purr of Trott’s voice, but couldn’t make out the words. Ross nodded.

“Minute’s up,” announced Smith. He spooned up behind Trott, snuffling his hair and letting his hands roam, squeezing appreciatively. Trott was entirely clothed, pristine buttoned labcoat and selkie skin and all. Hard as nails, though. Smith rubbed him through his trousers, sliding his palm in gentle circles, and Trott groaned.

“I want one too,” said Smith. He palmed Trott’s stomach, pulling him flush against his body and leaving a gooey handprint on the labcoat. He hooked his chin over Trott’s shoulder. Trott’s hand worked Ross’ cock smooth and fast, giving it that little twist at the end of each stroke that Ross loved. The familiar wet sound was even better up close, and something warm and heavy stirred in Smith’s stomach. 

Smith rocked his hips into Trott, just a little, feeling the tip of his cock emerge from between his legs, green and slick. Trott kept making up fancy words like ‘pseudopod’ to describe it when they played doctor, but a cock was a cock to Ross and Smith.

Ross shot him an annoyed glance. “I was here first.” 

“Wait your turn,” said Trott absently, his eyes not moving from Ross’ face. “I’ll find you some clay.” He pushed back into Smith’s hips, and Smith’s cock squirmed out a little further, rubbing happily against Trott’s warmth.

“ I want clay  _ and  _ a blowie,” murmured Smith, his teeth gentle on the rim of Trott’s ear. 

“ You're gonna give  _ him  _ a blowie?” Ross looked appalled. “Pearls before swine, Trott.”

“Come on, Trott,” coaxed Smith, “give us a little pickle tickle.” He nibbled Trott’s ear, plucking at the buttons of the labcoat and slipping his hands inside. The crisp white fabric was beginning to wilt in Smith’s proximity, smeared with green streaks and handprints.

“Wait your turn, mate,” warned Ross. “He can't do us both at once.” He planted a firm kiss on Trott’s mouth, glaring at Smith. Smith smiled, nuzzling Trott’s earlobe just how he liked it. He blew against the wet patch he had left, and Trott shivered. 

Smith eased Trott’s zipper down over his bulge. Although his rhythm remained steady, Trott groaned in relief, and tipped his head back to rest against Smith’s shoulder. Smith kissed his neck, sliding his hand through the zipper. “Well if he does, I want the left hand, the left hand’s better,” he said decisively. 

Ross looked down in sudden consternation. “The left hand’s better? Which one’s he using now? I want the left one, Trott.”

Trott rolled his eyes, squeezing Ross’ cock just a little harder until Ross whined and kissed him, soft and pleading. Smith made a frustrated noise and bit Trott’s ear.

“Can’t take you anywhere,” Trott muttered. He reached back over his shoulder with his spare hand, grabbing a firm handful of Smith’s hair. The green tendrils were soft and slick, and twined happily around his fingers even as Smith hissed and pulled against his hold to feel the sting.

“Come on, Trottimus,” urged Smith, his voice throatier, “how about the left hand of friendship? Be a friend, Trott.” One hand moved inside Trott’s trousers and the other rucked up Trott’s shirt, roaming across his soft skin.

Ross whimpered. “Trott.” He fixed Trott with his saddest puppy eyes. “Don’t leave me hanging, mate.”

“Trott,” whined Smith, pressing a wet kiss against his neck. “Don’t leave me out.”

Trott let go of them both, taking a step away and frowning at the chorus of disappointed groans. “Really now, gents,” he said. “Teamwork. I can do you both at once.”

Ross’ eyes brightened in sudden interest. “Teamwork?”

“Teamwork,” echoed Smith, locking eyes with Ross.

“Doubleteam,” said Ross with a grin.

“That’s the spirit,” said Trott, elbowing Smith back until he had room to shrug out of his damp labcoat. He gave it a perfunctory fold before tossing it onto the floor. Like most things that got near Smith, it would be going directly into the laundry afterwards. He looked over at Smith. “We’ll start without you if you don’t get undressed.”

Ross caught Trott’s eye. Trott nodded, and Ross let go of his wrist behind his back, rolling his shoulders to stretch the stiff muscles. “Need help?”

Smith hooked a finger under his tie and tugged at it. The silk twisted, tightening into a noose and Ross chuckled, pushing his hands aside to help him ease the knot loose. The suit jacket landed in a wet pile next to Ross’ carefully folded pinstripes. Trott must have been the one to make Ross fold the suit neatly - he normally strewed his clothes all over the room. 

Ross’ eyes flicked to Trott, waiting for a reaction. He made no move to pick up the jacket himself, of course, or neatly coil the tie he dropped on top of it. Trott didn’t seem to notice, pulling his selkie skin off over his head and tenderly folding it. It wasn’t a particularly good selkie skin, in Smith’s opinion, since Trott couldn’t swim worth a damn with or without it, but Trott seemed to enjoy being a walrus anyway, and it made for some amazing cuddles.

“I get his ass, you get the blowie,” offered Smith as Ross helped undo his cufflinks. “How about it, Trott?” He raised his voice without looking away from Ross.

“Or I get his ass and you get clay,” said Ross, raising an eyebrow.

“You know where you can put that clay, right up your arse, mate.”

“I thought it was going up Trott’s arse,” said Ross with a grin.

Smith held up his palm, and Ross high fived him, then reached over and slapped Trott’s ass. 

“That’s not a high five, that’s a low five,” Trott informed him with dignity. He put his hands on his hips, looking at Smith’s state of dishevelment. “You ready, Ross?”

Smith yelped. “Not fair!” A seam ripped somewhere as he fought his way out of his wet, clinging shirt. Ross, that bastard, didn’t even offer to help, just clasped his hands behind his back again and caught Trott’s lower lip between his for a slow, wet kiss. Trott’s hand was light on him, tracing the lines of his collarbone before sliding to cup the back of his head and hold him in place.

Ross watched Smith through his eyelashes with an unforgivable amount of smugness, and Smith snarled, kicking his way out of his trousers. “Fuck off, I’m ready. Come on.”

Trott ended the kiss in no great hurry, stroking his hand down Ross’ neck and chest before pushing him away. “You can have your hands back, Ross,” he murmured. “You’ve been a good boy.”

If Ross had a tail, he would have wagged it. But it was the wrong time of month for that, and all he had was a damn fine ass without a convenient handle for Smith to tug to get his attention. He still quivered with barely suppressed joy, like a dog being offered a meaty bone. Smith considered the potential for a joke about bones, but Trott wasn’t even paying attention to him, just watching Ross with a soft look in his eyes. Maybe he’d save the joke for when Sips was visiting, if he could come up with a good one he hadn’t used yet.

Ross cupped Trott’s chin, bending low for a kiss. It wasn’t a gentle one, but Trott gave as good as he got, threading his hands into Ross’ hair. Smith listened to the wet sounds and hitched breaths. Despite himself, he was already beginning to drip, wet all over with excitement and green slime. He caught himself licking his lips as the kiss went on for  _ entirely too long _ and neither one of them turned to look at him or invite him in. 

“Trott? Trott, come on, mate. I’m ready.”

No response from Trott. Ross squeezed a handful of Trott’s ass, making a completely unnecessary moan.

Smith clenched his fists. Trott was playing favorites again. Not that Ross was Trott’s favorite, of course. Smith was everyone’s favorite. But Trott didn’t have the slightest qualms about playing Ross against Smith, paying attention to him to make a point. Smith resented that he did it, and resented it even more that it worked. He kicked the puddle of his trousers a little further away. 

_ Finally, _ Trott broke the kiss, stepping away from Ross with one last fond glance, and turned towards Smith. He looked Smith up and down with approval, his eyes lingering on the slickness of his skin. Though nobody had paid him even an ounce of attention, his cock was almost fully uncoiled. It extended towards Trott’s hand and Trott teased it, drawing his fingers back out of range.

“Be a mate, Trott,” said Smith between clenched teeth.

Trott’s eyes flicked up to him. “Good things come to those who wait,” he chided, but he didn’t push too far. Some games were easier to play with Ross, and a pair of handcuffs was far more of a guarantee than Smith’s self-control.

“Yeah, but a blowie’s a blowie,” said Smith. “I’d rather get off now, mate.”

Ross muttered something nearly inaudible about filthy swine, and Trott snickered.

“Shove off, Ross, it’s my turn,” said Smith. “I’ll give you a pearl necklace later.”

“Aw, you remembered my birthday,” said Ross sweetly, moving in behind Trott and slipping a hand up his shirt to squeeze a nipple. “Come on then, nice big one.”

“ He’ll be the prettiest girl at the ball,” said Trott. “Just  _ dripping _ with jewels.” He delicately ran a finger over Smith’s cock before pulling away. A string of slime stretched between his finger and the throbbing tentacle. 

Smith made a heated noise, grabbing for Trott’s wrist.

“Don’t get fresh with me, sunshine,” said Trott, twisting his arm out of Smith’s slick grip.

“Oh, he’s way past fresh,” said Ross, tugging at the button of Trott’s trousers. “Gone a bit off, actually.”

“Past his due date,” said Trott sadly. “Better not put that near my mouth.”

“ _ Trott,” _ whined Smith.

“It’s completely rank,” announced Ross. “It’s all gone rotten, what’ll we do?”

“Filthy rotten,” agreed Trott. “Nothing for it, mate, you’ll have to get a new cock.”

“Rip this one off and start over,” said Ross.

“Trott, you bastard -” begun Smith.

“Ooh, dirty talk,” said Ross. He pulled Trott’s trousers down and pushed his hips against him, making a satisfied noise as he slid against warm smooth skin. “Tell me more.”

“Say please,” said Trott crisply. He made no move to reach for Smith, snuggling back into Ross’ warmth.

“Put my goddamn cock in your mouth already. Please and thank you,” Smith fumed. “With a cherry on top.”

“The cherry goes on top, does it?” said Trott, voice low and suggestive. 

“It’s his first time,” said Ross. He squeezed Trott’s hips. “Be gentle.”

Trott snorted and finally took mercy on Smith, easing to his knees. He winced at the coldness of the stone through the fabric of his trousers. “Nothing like a cave shag, eh?”

“Nothing like it?” Smith laughed. 

“Nothing like it,” agreed Ross, settling to his knees behind Trott. “Cold and hard.”

“There’s a reason there’s nothing like it,” said Smith. “It’s awful. Let’s build a sex dungeon.”

Ross looked up with alarm. “Not before I get off, mate.”

Trott reached back to pet Ross reassuringly, and Ross nuzzled his hand.

“Come on, Trott,” coaxed Smith. “A bit of carpet, some atmospheric lighting.”

“You build it,” said Trott. “I do enough around here.”

“If you build it, we will come,” said Ross with a grin.

“I’d rather come now,” said Smith.

“What are you waiting for?” asked Trott, his voice low and velvety.

Smith took a step forward. Trott smiled up at Smith, his eyes dark, and ran his nails through Ross’ hair. Ross groaned and rocked his hips into Trott, rubbing his chin over the top of his head.

“Come on, Trott,” said Smith. “My boner’s about to die of old age.”

“Aw, look at the poor thing,” said Ross, peering over Trott’s shoulder. “Like an unloved houseplant. Bit of cold water will perk it right up.” His eyes were bright with mischief.

“Going to behave for me, Smith?” Trott asked.

The low purr of Trott’s voice sent a bolt of heat down Smith’s spine. Smith sucked in a breath without meaning to. “I - sure, if you like,” he said, as casually as he could manage. His cock strained towards Trott, dripping wet, but he didn’t push his hips forward.

“That’s a start,” said Trott, finally bringing his hand up to let Smith’s cock coil around it. He leaned forward, planting a kiss on Smith’s hipbone, then licked the slick off his lips before kissing him again, a little lower. Ross watched avidly and licked his lips. The slime never really tasted like anything to Smith, but Trott claimed it was sweet. Ross, when pressed, had described it as “not something to put on toast, but pretty alright.”

Smith held his breath, wary of Trott changing his mind on a whim. He could be a terrible tease, and Smith desperately wanted to get off. The touch of Trott’s tongue on his cock, warm and soft, was long overdue, and the tip of the slippery tentacle whipped towards his face. Trott snorted and backed off, rubbing a hand across his nose.

“Mate, do we have to have this conversation every time? It doesn’t bloody go there.”

“I’m sorry, Trott,” laughed Smith. “I really am. Has a mind of its own.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck sheepishly, but his cock still squirmed in Trott’s grip, reaching for the damp heat of Trott’s breath.

“Bit slow, isn’t it,” commented Ross, slightly out of breath as he worked his hips harder against Trott.

“It’s a cock, mate, they all are,” said Trott. 

“Dunno about that, yours is downright speedy,” said Ross. 

“Over in a flash,” said Smith.

“Fastest bang in the world,” said Ross. “We could sell tickets.” He slowed down to mull the thought over and suck a hickey into Trott’s neck.

“A real sideshow attraction,” said Smith. “Twenty pence a pop.”

Trott yelped in outrage. “Twenty  _ pence?” _

“Now, now,” soothed Ross. “That’s a lot of pops. Like fucking pop rocks. We’ll be rich before you know it.” He kissed the mark he had made on the side of Trott’s neck.

“Get flashed by The Flash,” said Smith. “Other cocks are available.”

Trott shook his head and sighed. “Ought to sell you  _ both  _ to the circus. Then I’d actually get things done around here.” Using both hands to steady Smith’s excitable tentacle, he sucked the tip into his mouth. 

Smith moaned and barely kept himself from grabbing Trott’s hair. His hands fluttered through the air before finally locking together behind his back. He could be good. Trott hummed in approval, and Smith shivered at the vibration.

Ross frowned at the line of strain in Trott’s neck. Smith was doing that thing again where he stretched to be the tallest person in the room, and he wasn’t polite enough to bend his knees for Trott like Ross did. He tapped the side of Smith’s knee. “Oi, Smith, kneel down, he’s not a bloody accordion.”

Smith swayed, and Trott came up for air, coughing and rubbing the back of his wrist across his mouth.

“Thank you, Ross,” said Trott, his voice hoarse. “Smith, kneel down for me.”

Smith blinked his eyes back into focus. “Yeah,” he said. He took a deep breath. “Right, I can do that.” He wobbled a little as he knelt, hands still behind his back. Trott steadied him, Ross holding Trott’s hips to keep him in balance.

“Very good, Smith,” murmured Trott. He gave Smith’s cock a long stroke, and kissed the tip tenderly before taking it between his lips.

Ross tilted Trott’s hips forward just a little, rubbing against his ass and watching the show. Trott didn’t say anything else, his mouth occupied with Smith’s cock.

“There we go,” said Smith triumphantly to Trott. “Teamwork.” 

Trott hummed in approval.

“High five,” said Ross. Smith slapped his hand, then offered Trott a high five.

Trott pulled off of Smith’s cock with a wet pop, and sighed. “You were supposed to ask for permission to use your hands, mate.”

“Come on, Trott, teamwork is important.”

“Does he get punished?” asked Ross with interest.

“You’re the one who wanted a high five, you bastard!”

Ross flashed a wicked grin. “You’re the one who fell for it.”

“ _ Trott,” _ whined Smith. “That’s not fair.”

“For god’s sake,” said Trott. “Smith, behave yourself. No whining. Ross, stop enabling him.”

“ But  _ Trott _ -” began Ross.

“No whining,” said Trott firmly. “I will turn this car around.”

“Wait, does that mean I get the blowie?” asked Ross. “I’m confused.”

“Ball gags for the both of you,” muttered Trott. “Smith, hands behind your back. Ross, if he fucks up again, you’re getting the belt.”

“Come on, Trott. One high five? Please? For teamwork.” Smith’s eyes were wide and earnest, and he almost kept a straight face.

“Smith!” yelped Ross. “Trott, you can’t count that.”

“Oh, did I forget to mention?” said Trott. He grinned. “Ross, you get to hold the belt for Smith’s turn. Teamwork.”

Smith pulled a sour face, and Ross started laughing.

“Come on, then, sunshine,” said Trott. “High five.” He let go of Smith’s cock and held up a wet hand.

Smith hesitated, eyeing him narrowly. “Is that permission or a trap?”

Trott’s grin widened. “Permission, since you asked.”

Smith held up his hand and Trott slapped it with vigor. Slime splattered on the floor. Smith shook his stinging hand, grimacing, and Ross slapped Trott’s ass.

Trott’s head whipped around.

“Low five,” said Ross cheerfully.

“Very low,” echoed Smith.

“Below the belt,” warned Trott. He breathed out hard through his nose and leaned forward to take Smith’s cock back in his mouth.

Smith sighed in pleasure, but couldn’t keep his mouth shut for long. “Can’t see a belt, mate,” he said. Trott looked at him sharply, but his hands were still dutifully clasped behind his back.

“Were you wearing a belt, Trott?” asked Ross, his teeth sharp and white as he smiled.

“Don’t think he was, mate,” said Smith. His voice hitched as Trott’s teeth grazed him lightly.

“Well, he shouldn’t be wearing that shirt either,” said Ross, reaching under Trott for the buttons. “Get the top buttons, would you?”

“Oi, you undress your end, I’m busy here,” snapped Smith. He tightened his hands behind his back, pretending he hadn’t nearly let go. He scowled at Ross, and Ross stuck out his tongue, safe where Trott couldn’t see him.

The buttons came loose and Ross ran his hands over the soft curve of Trott’s stomach. He nudged Trott’s knees a little wider apart, pushing the plaid shirt up his back to pet the smooth expanse of skin there. The filthy wet noises were louder now, and Ross licked his lips, craning his head to get a better look at Trott’s face.

Trott was going down on Smith like it was a competition and he intended to win the blue ribbon. Smith’s cock squirmed in Trott’s mouth, bulging against his cheek. Slime dripped freely down Trott’s chin. Smith shuddered, panting and straining against the hold he had on his wrist. Ross watched with awe and envy, pushing his hips harder against Trott.

“Smith, I need some slick,” said Ross. He rubbed his fingers, but there wasn’t much left from the high five.

“Not on your life, mate,” said Smith, voice tight. He gasped and squeezed his eyes shut as Trott sucked harder, swirling his tongue around the tip.

“Trott?” asked Ross.

“Mmm,” said Trott.

“Trott, I need some slick.”

“Mmhmm,” said Trott.

Smith’s shoulders jerked as Trott hummed. “Ask again, Ross,” he said breathlessly. 

“ Tr-” Ross bit back a whine, and huffed. He squeezed Trott’s hips. He could lean forward and rub a hand over Smith, of course. Nobody would stop him. But nobody would  _ pay attention  _ to him either.

Smith’s eyes slitted open. He shook his head. “It’s no good, Trott,” he panted. “You’ll - ah fuck, Trott - never train him to fetch your slippers at this rate.”

Ross frowned. He slid a finger down between Trott’s cheeks, rubbing against his hole. Trott made an appreciative murmur, spreading his knees a little further apart. He was bound at the knee by his trousers, but Ross had enough room to play, circling his finger around the tense muscle. Trott moaned thickly and Ross’ determination wavered. 

He reached forward and ran his hand through Smith’s hair, collecting a handful of slime. The tendrils waved cheerfully, twining through Ross’ fingers, and Smith spluttered. Ross gave his hair a good tousle before pulling back, and Smith glared at him.

Green droplets of slime splattered across Trott’s back as Ross slicked up his hands. No need to spend time coaxing it to body temperature, it was already warm from Smith’s skin. He spared a few strokes for his cock, and groaned at the thick, silky wetness. He almost forgot himself, his hand and his breath speeding up. But Trott was waiting.

Ross slid a finger inside Trott, delighted with the way way he moaned and tilted his hips up for more. He twisted his hand and Trott grunted, spreading his knees a little further apart. 

Ross bit his lip, trying a second finger. Trott made a noise of warning.

“You’d better not make him bite me,” Smith said with a nervous laugh.

“Just relax,” coaxed Ross. “It’s fine.” It would be fine. He ran a soothing hand over Trott’s back and scissored his fingers. Trott tightened around him, growling deep in his throat. Smith’s hips snapped forward, and Trott pulled off to cough.

Ross took his fingers out. “Sorry, Trott.”

“Mate,” said Smith, “you are going to get us both belted.”

Trott wiped a sleeve over his mouth, turning to glare at Ross over his shoulder. “Don’t you fucking dare, Ross.” He coughed. “I’ve got better things to do than spend twenty minutes with your cock stuck up my ass.”

“Just the tip?” Ross pleaded.

“The entire fucking thing’s swollen, Ross! It’s like a fucking fire extinguisher.”

“Hello, I’m calling to report a fire,” said Smith. “It’s a big one. I’m going to need you to spray buckets and buckets of hot white foam all over it.”

“Why is it foamy?” said Ross, aghast. “Need to get that looked at.”

“I always use toothpaste when I brush my cock,” said Trott. “You don’t?”

“Filthy bastard, isn’t he?” said Smith. “Don’t worry about me, I’m minty fresh.”

“Trott,” whimpered Ross.

“No whining,” said Trott. “And no goddamn knotting. We’re in a cave, for fuck’s sake.”

Ross sighed. He didn’t mind the knotting, himself. He enjoyed having a good long cuddle afterwards. But Trott was right, the floor was awfully cold and hard. Ross’ knees ached, now that he thought about it. They’d have to get going on that sex dungeon. Maybe put in a hot tub, Trott would love it. Not a bad way to spend twenty minutes.

“We can do something better if you want,” murmured Trott, his eyes gleaming. “Go upstairs, get some toys.”

Ross kissed him. “Nah, I’m fine.” He licked the sweetness off his lips.

“You going to be a good boy?” asked Trott.

“Yes,” said Ross dutifully. He grinned.

“ Can  _ I _ fuck Trott up the ass then?” asked Smith with interest.

“Fuck off!” yelped Ross. 

“No ass,” said Trott. “The bun shop is closed for business.”

“Ooh, economic downturn, was it?” said Smith. “Hard times mean hard -” Trott’s mouth enveloped his cock, ending the discussion.

Ross chuckled. Smith always made the best faces. He watched Smith wince and grimace - Trott was taking no prisoners this round and Ross didn’t know whether he hoped or feared that Smith would forget about the ban on using his hands. Bit of both, really. His groin tightened as he imagined the smack of leather on skin. He licked his lips, sliding a wet hand between Trott’s thighs to slick them up. A bit of shuffling, and he had his knees on either side of Trott’s, pressing his legs together.

Ross slid his cock between Trott’s thighs, groaning happily at the pressure and warmth enveloping him. His breath caught when he pressed deep, the pressure harder against the swollen base of his cock. 

“Fuck, Trott,” he said quietly, running a hand up Trott’s spine under his shirt. He leaned forward, wrapping himself around Trott. The games were fun, of course, but there was no substitute for this closeness and warmth - the scent of Trott’s skin, the rise and fall of his ribs, and the softness of his stomach in Ross’ hands. Ross closed his eyes, nuzzling Trott’s neck as he listened to the wet sounds of his mouth.

This close, he could almost imagine it was his own lips on Smith’s cock, could almost taste the stinging sweetness and feel the slick curves exploring his mouth and pressing against his cheeks. Trott swallowed heavily around Smith’s cock, and Ross wet his lips. He dropped kisses on Trott’s neck, on the sensitive skin right under his ear, under his jaw. Might have rubbed his cheek against Trott a few times, but that was fine, the scent marking was nothing compared to the gooey disaster Smith always left behind.

Ross breathed in the scent of warm skin and slick and arousal, of the three of them together. His hips hitched against Trott, and the rhythm felt as natural as a heartbeat. He buried his face in the crook of Trott’s neck, taking a bite of his shirt, and sped up, rocking him forward with every stroke. 

Trott braced a hand on Smith’s leg and squeezed his thighs together harder, pushing back against Ross. Ross growled, wrapping his arms tighter around Trott’s ribs and taking a bigger bite of his shirt. It would be better if he could just - feel Trott’s skin against his mouth, sink his teeth into Trott’s ruff and just - Ross let go and came up for air, panting. He could feel the flush from his chest up to his hairline, the tension singing in his stomach and thighs. Now was not the time to get careless.

“Come on, then,” said Smith breathlessly. “Give him a bit of a wank while you’re back there. It’s the polite thing to do.”

“Got my hands full,” protested Ross. “Why don't you come here and wank him off?”

“No you don’t, mate,” said Smith. “I’ve played musical chairs before.”

Ross laughed giddily, slipping a hand down Trott’s stomach to find his cock. It was hard and leaking in Ross’ hand, and Trott groaned, low and desperate. Ross stroked him again just to hear his voice. He was so close he could barely breathe, could barely think - he licked his lips, pushing faster into Trott’s warmth and Smith’s slick. His eyes fluttered shut. He was close, he was so - 

Smith got there first with a shout, overflowing Trott’s mouth with slick. A few frantic heartbeats later, Ross shuddered through his release, locking tight around Trott for a long moment as he pressed his closed mouth to his neck. 

“Guys?” said Trott hoarsely. “Anytime now,” he said, his voice tight. His hips bucked and Ross murmured, nuzzling his neck. 

Ross’ entire body felt like a warm puddle of candle wax. He gave Trott’s cock a halfhearted squeeze, then let go to pet Trott’s leg clumsily. “Innaminnit,” he mumbled, dropping his head to rest against Trott’s back. 

“Come on, Ross,” said Smith, a barely-suppressed grin in his voice. “You got your carrot, don’t make him give you the stick as well.”

“Ross?” said Trott, his voice sharper. He elbowed Ross in the ribs, but got no response. “Oh, for god’s sake, you can’t fall asleep that fast.” Ross hummed in agreement, not moving as Trott squirmed. “Ross - christ, you’re heavy.”

“Here, I got you, mate,” said Smith.

Two wet hands landed on Ross’ shoulders, firmly pushing him back. Ross didn’t resist, but pulled Trott into his lap as he sank onto his heels, reluctant to part with his warmth. With a bit of shuffling, Trott kicked off his trousers and spread his legs wide across Ross’ lap. Ross lazily stroked a palm across Trott’s stomach, feeling the hitch in his breath, the quiver of tension.

“Come here, Smith,” commanded Trott. 

Ross cracked an eye open to watch. Smith flashed Trott a wide grin, prowling closer on his hands and knees.

“ Need a  _ hand _ , Trottim-”

Trott’s hand flashed towards him, snagging a handful of his hair. The slick green tendrils twined through Trott’s fingers as he reeled Smith in. He kissed Smith, messy and desperate. Ross nosed at Trott’s neck, and Trott fumbled for a grip on his hair, tugging harder than usual.

Trott was the one to break the kiss, gasping for breath. “Some time in the next four hours would be good, Smith.”

Smith grinned, flirting a finger down the buttons of Trott’s shirt. “Well, in that case, I can take -”

Trott pushed Smith’s face down into his lap.

With a laugh, Smith got to work. Despite having gotten his so recently, Ross still felt a stir of interest at the wet sounds and Trott’s moans and bitten-off curses. He could feel Trott’s hips moving in his lap as he rocked into Smith’s mouth. Ross nuzzled Trott’s earlobe, licking it and then blowing against it. Trott hissed and jerked his hips.

“Fuck,” he said. “Fuck, Smith, just -”

Smith swallowed, taking him deep, and slid a hand between his legs. Ross made room for him, gently biting Trott’s neck. Trott made a hoarse, encouraging noise as Smith pressed a slick finger inside him. He arched his back, rocking against his hand, then into his mouth.

Ross chuckled against Trott’s neck before sucking a stinging mark into his skin. Trott made a delightful noise at that, so he did it again. Not to be outdone, Smith pulled off, running his tongue around the head of Trott’s cock and flashing his eyebrows at Ross as Trott moaned.

The game didn’t last much longer - all too soon, Trott cried out, his hands tightening in their hair as his arms trembled. Ross wrapped his arms around Trott and held him securely as he went boneless, and Smith pressed closer, kissing Trott’s stomach. Ross buried his nose in Trott’s hair and reached for Smith, cupping a hand around the back of his head and holding him against Trott. 

“Now that,” said Trott, “is proper teamwork.” He carded his fingers through Smith’s hair, and tipped his head up to look at Ross. Ross kissed him on the forehead. Smith made a noise and a halfhearted effort to crawl up Trott’s body before sliding back down. The stone floor was cold and hard, and not for the first time, Ross wished for a bed. Taglocks be damned.

“Whose idea was the cave?” Smith mumbled. There was a wet slurp as he peeled an arm off the ground and draped it over Trott’s lap.

Trott snickered. “It’s awful, isn’t it?”

“The worst,” said Smith. “It’s disgusting.”

“Damp,” said Ross. “Cold. Full of skeletons. It’s a horrible experience, every time.”

“Trott’s still well up for it, though,” said Smith. “Aren’t you, you dirty bastard.”

“I am,” said Trott. “Nothing quite like it.”

Ross snorted and reached for the pile of clothes, careful not to spill the others off his lap. It was just barely in reach - he hooked his fingers in Trott’s trousers, dragging them closer. He wiped at the mess on Smith’s mouth and Trott’s thighs, but it was a lost cause. Would have been easier if there were a hot tub, he mused. And fluffy towels.

“ So,” said Smith, “about that clay…”

 


End file.
